It was because of his walks in the woods,
that the woods are still there.
Gloryland.
Beneath the seabed,
secrets of the nautilus engineered by chance.
Talking, Eco-animated flatland.
Carbon capture wing tones, slow the flow
of angels, pins and brains.
Can't see the desert for the trees.
Leaf Antlers--
If only they could talk.
Deep thoughts and oddball interpretations;
a caravan rumbles to a stop.
Approval trap--
It's all in the detail.
Just a whiff could wipe out bad memories.
So we replied with speed--
When the moon blows,
we flummox to a different earth beat.
Oh my God, what if we find aliens?
---
A cut out poem, literally phrases cut out of a magazine and pasted together into a poem. Minor editing for better flow.
